


Truth

by magnetowrites



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post Season 7, Season 7 Spoilers, jonsa, mentions of past jonerys, post boat bang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetowrites/pseuds/magnetowrites
Summary: When Jon returns to Winterfell, Sansa has a hard time dealing with the fact that he bent the knee. As Jon tries to explain himself, feelings are revealed, and the truth of who he is surfaces.





	Truth

**Author's Note:**

> My first Jonsa fic! This is me sorta working out how I feel about Jon being... what he was last season. Hopefully something about this rings true, I'm hopefully Sansa and Winterfell can knock some sense into Jon. Enjoy!

“Sansa,” Jon took a shaky breath as he stepped forward to her back facing him. “Please-“

“There’s nothing to plead for.” She was right. 

“I did what I had to do, you haven’t seen it-“

When Sansa turned, for a moment Jon thought the fire in her eyes was fiercer than anything a dragon could conjure. When he looked for a moment he realized the candles reflected in her light blue eyes. The seemed to dance, the fire was the fury, and the blue of her eyes was her ladylike courtesies forcing herself to remain composed. She sighed. “You’re right. I haven’t seen the army of the dead. But, I have seen men. I’ve seen them turn on the people they were sworn to obey, to follow. You were King, and that meant something more than your own personal thoughts. Being King, means you have to be an extension of your people. You have to make them love you. Joffrey did whatever he pleased. Cersei does whatever she pleases. Do you want to be like them?”

He couldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t have done it if he had any other choice. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Sansa sucked in a hasty breath. “Jon, I don’t think you understand. Who in the North will support you. They were ready to overthrow you when you went to talk to the Dragon Queen.”

“Well why didn’t they?”

“Because of me. I’ve been ruling Winterfell, I’ve been ruling the North while you were off doing.. what?”

“And I thank you, but Sansa, please. Dragons are the best way to defeat the Others.”

“I thought you just wanted Dragonglass. I thought that’s why you left. I mean, that is what you told me.”

“Countless men will die. It’s not about what works, it is about how we can end this the quickest. Her dragons can kill thousands of Others in minutes.” Jon was begging Sansa to understand, or just look at him but she didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes. 

“That’s the only reason you knelt? That’s the only reason you spent so much time away from me? Our home and our family? What about us?” Sansa’s voice was breaking, and Jon’s heart stopped for a moment. He meant to protect her. Never hurt her. This is the only way he could protect her. If the Others reached Winterfell… he couldn’t bear the thought. Ever since she’d entered the courtyard at Castle Black, Jon Snow didn’t want to picture a world without Sansa Stark.

“Sansa.”

“What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t want him here, he could feel it. Pushing the thought away he stepped towards her, he tried his best to ignore the subtle flinch. 

“Look at me.” She sniffled and in the dimly lit room, and Jon realized she had been fighting tears. “What is this about?”

Her breath was shaky, but as she exhaled, she looked into his eyes. “The North. This is everything our family fought for. What they died for. And now… what do we have?”

“Each other.”

“Jon,” Sansa looked at the ground, shaking her head. “I thought I had you. But you went South. And you took everything we’ve worked for. And you gave it away.” When Sansa looked back up at Jon, he couldn’t see the fire in her eyes. Only the blue. It wasn’t calm. It was sad. 

“Queen Daenerys is kind. She will be a good and fair ruler. And we need her armies.” 

“You knelt… because she is kind?”

“Sansa,”

“Stop!” Jon took half a step back in surprise at her tone. “This is our home Jon. You gave it away to a woman you barely know. Robb died for the North. So did my mother, Rickon, and our father. The North Remembers. We remember how the Targaryens treated us, how they burnt our grandfather and uncle alive. Maybe Daenerys is different. But have you known her long enough to truly know who she is? What kind of ruler she is?”

“She came here to help. I just bent the knee to show respect.”

“You gave up the North as a way to say thank you?”

“As a way to cement her loyalty.” She was silent for a moment.

“What?”

“She came with her dragons while we journeyed beyond the wall. One of them perished. Dead things out there… they come back. The only way to beat a dead dragon, is with one that is alive.”

Sansa said nothing.

“I never meant to do anything but protect you, Sansa. Everything I’ve done as been to protect you.”

Jon didn’t expect what happened next. Sansa rushed into Jon’s arms and she gripped him tight. She whispered a thank you into his ear. He couldn’t grasp what had happened. He expected her to sigh and explain how no one could protect her. As soon as it happened, it was over and Sansa was quick to wipe stray tears off her face and compose herself. 

“Is that all you have to tell me?” When Jon shook is head, she curtly nodded and made her way for the door. 

“Sansa,” He said for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. “Winterfell has never looked better, you make a great Lady.” 

She gave him a rare, but genuine smile as she exited his chambers. 

-

Jon entered the hall to break his fast, and he was met with sudden disappointment when he did not see Sansa. He did find Lord Glover. He didn’t know what was worse, the presence of him, or the absence of her. 

“What should I call you now?” Lord Glover spoke, with a tone Jon wasn’t quite fond of. 

“I am your Lord, you will address me as such. Now if you will excuse me.” Jon tried to make his escape, not eager to face criticism from the lords of the North.

“We made you our King.” Lord Glover stepped in front of him, as to challenge him.

“Aye, you did.” Jon brushed past him, to attend to his growling stomach. 

He heard footsteps, and as they got closer, the sound of a chain moving. Sansa. He turned to see her walk in, and noticed Ghost padding beside her. 

“Good morning, Lord Glover.” Her voice rang like a song throughout the room.

With the tip of his head he replied, “Morning, Lady Stark.” He exited the room. At least the lords maintained their respect for Sansa. But, he would expect nothing else. 

She made her way to the table, and sat down, ever so gracefully. He watched her, and he seems to be frozen in his stance. 

“What does the Dragon Queen think of the North?” 

Jon cleared his throat, “I, uh… haven’t had the chance to talk to her.”

Sansa nodded, grabbing bread for her plate. “That reminds me, Bran wants to speak with you, after you finish your meal.”

He nodded and quickly took a seat to join her. 

-

Bran sat staring at the fire in his chambers. He didn’t seem to move, even slightly to take a breath. 

“Bran?”

“Jon,” Bran looked like he attempted to smile. “Come in.”

Jon stepped in and Bran returned his gaze to the fire. Jon took a seat next to his brother, struggling to find something to say. “You never told me how you made it back to Winterfell.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“Pardon?”

“I’m the Three-Eyed Raven now. I can see everything in the past and present. I get glimpses of the future.”

“Uh.. okay.” Jon tried to wrap his mind around what his brother was saying, and what the hell happened to his sweet Bran. Time had made them all hardened, but Bran… well, Bran was different. Jon had seen wights, he has seen dragons, but nothing quite like this. 

“Eddard Stark was not your father.” Bran spoke, glancing Jon’s way.

Jon left out a laugh of disbelief. “Bran, are you-?”

“Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark got married, and had you. Rhaegar died in the Trident and my Aunt Lyanna died giving birth to you. My father found you and took you home, and named you his bastard to protect you.” Bran didn’t seem to care about much, but he spoke with something that Jon could almost see as emotion, like he did really care about this. Still, Jon didn’t believe it. He didn’t know what to think.

“No… you cannot possibly th-“

“I don’t think, Jon. I know. Ask your friend Sam. I wrote to Lord Reed, asking for his confirmation. If this is true, Jon, you are the heir to the Iron Throne. And your name, is Aegon Targaryen.”

Bran’s voice echoed in Jon’s thoughts as he sat frozen in his chair. Who was he, truly?

Bastard of Winterfell. Man of the Night’s Watch. Lord Snow. King in the North. 

Targaryen Prince. Aegon Targaryen.

Jon Snow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Feel free to (please) leave comments with anything you felt. Talk to me about anything, but I really do hope you all enjoyed the beginning to this fic. It is sort of turning into what I want season 8 to be like?? (whoops) But don't worry jonsa is always the most important part.


End file.
